8. Winnifred
T here were few things I loved about living in this city. But there were many, many reasons why I hated it.
First, and foremost, my ex still lived here. I knew so because he had his face on a billboard, one that I happen to pass by in my every day commute. Because he was the self-proclaimed ‘best dentist in the 1910 area’ and enjoyed his face so much he thought it deserved its own ad. Worst part is the man had terrible hygiene, so the photo of him in white scrubs flexing his biceps with toothbrushes, floss, and mouthwash falling around him like the world’s worst storm was entirely photoshopped to turn his teeth bright shining white. News flash: no one’s real teeth look like they would glow in the dark at a neon bowling alley.
Secondly, parking was a nightmare. And not the kind of nightmare you forget after five minutes of scrolling through social media. The kind that haunts you throughout the day, lurking over your shoulder knowing you’ll have to come back to it eventually.
Third, and obviously not least, the amount of consumerism. Buildings, so many freaking buildings. And shops everywhere full of people buying things they never needed. I never realized how much I appreciated my five stoplight town back home. How the closest thing to a shopping center we had was a Walmart thirty minutes out of town. How our corner stores were ninety percent locally grown vegetables and meat from the ranch. The other day I saw a woman who had an actual outfit on her Stanley cup. A yellow and pink sweater and the straw had a teeny tiny baseball cap on. It made me want to go find a giant patch of grass and just roll around in it for a while.
Growing up I always groaned and whined about the lack of shopping in our area. Lottie, her friends, and I would lie around on her bedroom floor saying our plans of once we graduate we’re gonna drive all the way to Birmingham to get our daily needs. Which was for lack of a better words: horse shit. Yeah, maybe everything moved slow back home. And maybe at the time I hated that. But I’ve experienced fast pace. I moved here with construed misconceptions and now…I missed slow, I missed it so, so much.
I will say though, the one thing about this city that I did love…was a Costco. The closest thing we had to a Costco back home was a Sams club and it was nearly two hours away. This place had everything I could possibly need for the truck. And it had it in bulk. Along with dollar fifty hot dogs and the best cinnamon pretzels that a giant chain could make.
So every single weekend I made a date night with myself. Two hot dogs with relish, ketchup, mustard, and some pepper flakes sprinkled on top- stolen from the pizza section. A cinnamon pretzel for dessert. Two hours of aimlessly strolling down the aisles, counting my every expense and grabbing my every day supplies for the truck. And a 32 oz Dr Pepper with the good ice for the road.
Now that my assistant, who recently married and decided to go and get herself pregnant and become one of those gorgeous glowing beach balls, quit it was just me again. A relief considering most weeks I would have to PayPal her amount owed from my credit cards just to be able to pay her and my bills at the right time. But now that I was the only one in charge of my bills, my budget stretched a little further for these trips. Thus, two $1.50 hot dogs instead of just one. Life is a luxury, people, and I planned to live it.
Lifting a larger than life container of baking soda, I tossed in the cart next to my thirty two individually packed freeze dried strawberries, my overly sized box of granola bars that would take me three years to reach the bottom of, and my four containers of heavy whipping cream.
“Alright,” I looked down to the paper list in the kids section of my cart. It had tiny cartoon DNA symbols with an illustrated Albert Einstein in the corner holding a pencil and smiling brightly at me. “What’s next, Al?”
My eyes scrolled the list, settling on ‘all-purpose flour’ and I pushed my cart a little further. Grabbing my next few essential items, I rounded the corner to the next aisle.
My cart, the size of a small SUV, smacked right into another one in front of me.
“I’m so sorry, I-” I looked up and saw whoever was pushing this cart had their items stacked so high up that they couldn’t see the end of their buggy. It was a wonder they had managed to even navigate the end of the ais-
Oh. Never mind. It wasn’t a wonder. Not when a familiarly handsome face popped out to the side, a hot dog in his hands. With relish, mustard, ketchup…and red pepper flakes. This bastard. His gaze morphed as he took in that I was on the other end of the collision, first apologetic and then irritated. My smile pulled up further.
“Hi Crew.” I mused.
I had been selfishly hoping to see him soon. Not for any reason other than I was desperate to taunt him of his obvious mustache-ry just two days prior.
He groaned, a low rumble, then spoke through grit teeth. “Hello. I didn’t know they sell witch potions here.”
The corner of my lips pulled up. “Oh yes, on aisle five right next to the cauldron I bought last week.”
His eyebrows lifted to the ceiling in a way that said ‘typical’ before he maneuvered his cart around mine, passing down the aisle I just came from. And even though I knew it would be best if I went on my way, I apparently had always had a thing for self-destruction and thought why not? I turned my cart to do a one eighty and followed right beside him.
I watched his back side as he powered through the aisle, pulling his buggy to a stop in front of the sugar. He dressed a little different than normal today. Those same shorter shorts he wore a few days ago but instead of one of those unbearable Hawaiian shirts he typically wore, his broad back was stretching out a washed out navy blue t-shirt with a bars logo. Romfuzzled. I recognized it from one of his brothers that regularly came by the trucks. Was this Crews outside work attire? Yum.
He lifted on arm up, and with a single hand grabbed an extra-large bag of powdered sugar. Strong fingers gripped the white and pink bag, wrapping around it effortless and carrying into his already full cart.
“What do you need powdered sugar for?” I asked, lifting up on my pink converse to watch him drop it in place.
“To smother you with it.”
“Sounds lovely, a beautiful way to go.”
The corner of his lip pulled a little, and even if it was at the expense of my death, it was very cute. “It will be. For the first time in years I’ll have true silence.”
I smiled at that. Crew Wells could do this all he wanted, hate me for no reason whatsoever. What he didn’t know is I had been trapped by hatred for years, and whatever game he thought he could win against me, was a lost cause. Believe it or not, I could be the bigger person. Something he didn’t allow himself to have the pleasure of experiencing.
He pushed his cart further down the aisle. I followed.
“Are you trying to figure out what to bake?”
“I’m trying to figure out the best way to get you off of my last nerve.”
I ignored that. “Because you know if you just asked I would gladly help you.”
He narrowed his eyes at me and I absolutely beamed under it. Because him asking me for help would mean admitting failure to me, something I knew he would hate most.
“You know, I met the most interesting couple the other day…guy had a really sexy mustache?”
Crew cleared his throat as he looked over to the full shelves, cheeks turning pink under my watch. “Oh?”
I hummed with my lips pushing together and took a bite of my hot dog, talking around the food. “Oh, yeah, incredible legs. Lean arms. Broad chest. Not too lean though, the kind of guy that could toss me around a bit, you know?”
Crew cleared his throat, multiple times, and looked right past me.
“It’s a shame he had a girlfriend with him though.”
“She’s not my girlfr-”
His gaze locked on mine, my knowing smirk, and instantly dropped.
“Why is it so hard to admit you need my help, Crew?”
“Because I don’t take handouts from anyone but especially someone like you.”
My chin jerked back a bit. I mean the evil witch stuff, the poisoning jokes, sure, sure, another chip off the block. But why did this time feel heavier than that? Heavier than someone just showing up and taking a fraction of his business.
“Someone like me?” I hated how my voice sounded wavy.
“Yes.” He stared directly ahead of us. “You know exactly what I mean too.”
“Um, I don’t, but okay.”
We both stayed silent as we came to the end of the aisle and rounded the corner to the next one. Someone like me. He was playing mind games, just like he always had. Let me flirt with you one minute and pretend I hate you the next. Let me spend years messing with you knowing nothing about you.
“You know, I don’t mind admitting I need your help. I can’t seem to make an entree for the life of me.”
His steps slowed a bit and he glanced my way in a look that said he obviously didn’t believe me.
I raised a hand up. “I swear. Almost burned my kitchen down twice and the one dish I actually made tasted like you bit into straight cardboard with some paprika on top.”
“What’s your point?”
My eyes rolled on their own volition, I mean how hard was this to comprehend? “My point is we each have a problem that the other person has the solution for.”
He stopped entirely then. “Explain.”
“You could help me create an entree,” he scoffed just at the notion and I continued. “I could help you perfect a dessert.”
“Why would we help each other?”
My arms flung to the sides and I groaned, geez, what was so hard about this? “Oh come on Crew, it’s obvious. We each have something the other one wants and it’s easy to fix this if you weren’t so stubborn.” His mouth twitched when my Southern twang twisted the word ‘stubborn’. “It’s not like I particularly enjoy the thought of asking you for help but it’s obvious we both need it.”
A moment of silence passed before he spoke up in a hushed tone. “So you’re saying I would create an entree just for you and you would make a dessert for me.”
“You catch on awfully quick.” I whispered.
“That’s cheating.” His eyes glanced to the ends of the aisles with strangers passing back, like they were some food truck police waiting to take us both down.
I rolled my eyes. “It’s not cheating it’s just…working the syst-”
“Let me make something very clear to you, Winnifred.” Crew took two steps to me, leaning into talk directly in my face. I hate that the first thing I noticed was how lovely his teeth are. If anyone needed a dentist billboard ad, it was this man. And he smelled…like something fresh. Something masculine and strong but behind it was a field of magnolias. One you could lie down in and look up at the clear blue sky all day. Oh my gosh…was Crew Wells actually being sexy right now? My whole face lit into a flame as his eyes danced between mine, only inches away. His hair was stuck out in twenty directions but god, he never looked better. And the way his voice turned into gravel as he spoke made my arms shiver.
“I don’t do cheaters. I never have. I never will. I draw the line there, so if you think I will let your pretty girl, get whatever you want, mind tricks play me then you’re wrong. I can take care of myself, I expect you to do the same.”
He took three steps back from me to his cart, taking his lovely smell and teeth and muscular thighs right with him as he pushed his way down the aisle. This time I was a little too stunned to follow. I don’t do cheaters. And what, like I did?
I watched as he walked away from me in large steps and couldn’t help but let the last thought in my brain bubble around.
He thinks I’m pretty?